Merry Christmas and Happy Anniversary to Boys Meets Boy
Reviews! I’m looking forward to a good
six weeks of Christmas books and movies this year. How about you? This is my fifth year releasing a Christmas
novella. I love to write them almost as much as I love to read them.

The protagonists in this year’s book, “Desperately Seeking
Santa”, are Gabe, a journalism student at the University of Wisconsin, Madison,
and Mack “the Mountain” McDonall, a 6’10”, 285-pound star college wrestler.
Gabe first sees Mack (and drools over him) when he attends a wrestling match
with his friend, Jordan. Jordan sets Gabe and Mack up, but it doesn’t go too
well at first, thanks to Gabe’s callous-sounding remarks about how he intends
to “out” a mystery Santa who performs at a local charity dinner. Of course, eventually
Gabe convinces Mack that he’s not a Scrooge and deserves a chance.

I’m sharing an exclusive excerpt from the book here. In this
scene, Gabe been assigned to write about a Christmas charity dinner for the
local newspaper. He’s trying to find an interesting angle on what seems like a completely
boring story. He’s about given up hope of the story until he learns one unusual
fact….

EXCERPT
– Mystery Santa

The Elks Lodge in Madison was a few blocks away from the
capitol on Lake Monona. It was a two-story white building with huge windows, a
beat-up parking lot, and a dock out back. Like a lot of Madison, Wisconsin, it
was a mix of an awesome natural setting with a Midwest 70s plain-ass building.
It was November 30th, the day was chilly and gray, and that made me all the
more aware of how time was slipping away from me this semester, and how close
the end of the year was.

Walter Stickle was the Elk in charge of the charity dinner,
and he was about what I expected. He looked to be in his 80s with a bald head,
fragile build, plaid shirt, old-man trousers, and too-white tennis shoes. But
he was jovial as he shuffled ahead of me into a big hall. The room had
rust-colored carpet, wood paneling on one wall, a small raised stage, an
American flag on a stand, chairs stacked to the side, and big banquet tables.
It was clean but drab and uninspired, a church meeting hall sort of space. The
sole redeeming factor was that one whole wall was glass and overlooked the
lake. The lapping water was beautiful even on a gray day like today.

“This is where we have the Christmas dinner every year,”
Walter said. “Usually, we sell around three hundred tickets, but only about two
hundred folks show up for the dinner and entertainment. Lots of people just
like to contribute. It’s for a good cause.”

I typed that into my phone’s notepad app. “There’s
entertainment?”

“Well, sure! We’re not heathens,” he teased with a smile.
“Let’s see. This year we have a string quartet from over to the college.
They’ll play before and during dinner. Then carolers come in while dessert is
being served. They dressed up in Victorian-like costumes, you know. Once all
the plates are cleared, the kids come in and sing a song. Then Santa Claus
makes his big appearance.” He gestured broadly. “That’s always the highlight of
the evening!”

Be still my heart. “What kids come in?” My thumbs flew over
my phone.

“Why, the kids from St. Mark’s,” Walter had a killer duh look for an eighty-year-old.

“Oh. Right.”

I’d checked out the Elks’ website and downloaded the PDF
flyer about the charity dinner. It was the thirtieth year they’d had it, and
the dinner benefited St. Mark’s Children’s Home in Madison.

“Do all the kids from the children’s home come here for
that?” I had no idea what difference it made, but I asked the question anyway.

“Oh, yes! They wouldn’t miss it. They get dinner too, but
theirs is served over in the lounge. Turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, mac and
cheese. Kid-friendly foods, you know. I can show you the lounge if you want.”

“Sure. In a minute.”

I looked over my notes with a sinking feeling. This
interview and tour were as dreary as I’d imagined. I’d made a list of questions
last night, and I scrolled through them now. Some of them were things that,
standing there, I could not bring myself to ask Walter, like about the
relevancy of the Elks today, why their membership was declining, and if they
thought millennials were responsible for the death of fraternal organizations. I’d
tried to think of something, anything, with a hint of real substance and
controversy.

Desperate, I picked one of my favorites. “So… the tickets
are a hundred dollars a person. Exactly how much of that goes to the kids?”

Walter put his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Good
question. All of it. We get the food and drinks donated from local businesses.
I have a list I can give you. It’d be nice to acknowledge them; everyone’s so
generous. And of course we don’t charge anything for the use of the lodge. The cooks
and servers are Elks and we donate our time. So, you see, every cent we raise
in ticket sales goes to the kids.”

I noted it down. Not exactly an expose in the making there.

“What’s the history of the event? Why did the Elks start
raising money for St. Mark’s specifically?” I asked. Maybe there was something
interesting and gossipy in the backstory. An out-of-wedlock baby given up for
adoption? A young Elk in love with a perky orphanage matron?

“Oh, the Elks have always raised funds for charity, especially
when it comes to children. We raise money for over ten local organizations. I
can’t say exactly why we started with St. Mark’s, ‘cept that it’s a children’s
home here in Madison. It’d be odder if the Elks didn’t do
something for ’em.”

“Oh.” Dead ends. Dead ends everywhere! I was sure Will
Ripley never had to make something out of a story like this one.

“You don’t look too happy, son,” Walter said. “Maybe you can
tell me what you’re looking for, and I can help you out.”

I was ashamed to have been caught pouting. I smiled. “Oh,
no! It’s fine.”

He regarded me with sharp eyes. “Uh-huh. I suppose this is a
pretty boring story, year after year. But we do appreciate the publicity. Helps
us sell tickets, and usually St Mark’s sees an uptick in direct donations when
the article comes out too. So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, of course, I’m glad we can help.”

I scanned my list again. Over consumption of
alcohol? Yeah, no doubt it was a wild and crazy night. No, there was
nothing here. And I felt like a shit for wanting drama and scandal. Poor
Walter. He was such a nice guy.

“I suppose you’re new to the paper?” he asked.

Resigned, I nodded and dropped my phone into a pocket.
“Yeah. I’m a journalism student at UW.”

Walter nodded knowingly. “Believe it or not, I remember how it
feels, trying to make your mark. I enlisted in the Navy at eighteen. They
couldn’t make a hurdle high enough for me. Had to prove myself, you see.”

I smiled. It was hard to picture Walter as a young man, but
for a brief second, I managed, seeing him scrambling over some boot camp wall.
Bet he was cute.

Jesus, getting old sucked.

“So let’s see…” Walter pondered. “What would make this a
more interesting article for you…?”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary.” Dios. I felt like a tool.

Walter waved me off. “No, no. There’s got to be something.
Let’s see.” He tapped his chin. “There was the year a candidate for mayor came
and introduced a pretty blonde around as his wife. Came to find out later, it
wasn’t his wife at all.” Walter winked. “Though I don’t suppose that sort of
scandal matters much these days, and this was years ago. Oh—I know! There is one mystery around the Christmas dinner.”

I was about to protest again, but his words hooked me. I
blinked. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

He smiled deviously and leaned in as if to impart a secret.
“Our Santa Claus is a mystery man.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, no one knows who he is. He contacts us every year
on the phone in early December to confirm that he’s coming. He shows up the
night of the dinner in costume, hands out gifts, greets everyone, ho-ho-hos,
takes pictures with the kids, and leaves, still in costume.” Walter shrugged.
“He’s never told us his name.”

“But… don’t you have to write him a check or something?”

Walter waved his hand like he smelled something bad. “Oh,
no, we don’t pay him! He does it for free.”

That seemed weird to me. I wasn’t grasping it. “So… your
Santa is not an Elk?”

“Oh, definitely not an Elk.” Walter
shook his head, chuckling as if it was a dumb question. “Believe me, there’s no
one like him in our group!”

“Well… how did he start doing it then? He must have
interviewed, talked to someone about the job at some point.” My voice sounded a
little overeager. Something about this was sparking a flame deep in my little
reporter’s heart.

“Now that’s an interesting story,” Walter said
philosophically. “See, for about twenty years, we had the same Santa, a guy
named George. Very nice man. But then poor George got cancer. And one
year—guess it was about four years ago now—he called me up and said he didn’t
think he was up to it. He insisted on sending someone around to replace him.
That night, a new Santa showed up. And he was great. Really good with the kids,
you know. Made a big impression.” Walter chuckled. “So I told him he was
welcome to come back again, and he said he would, and he’s been coming ever
since! But I’ve never seen his face without the white wig and beard. Why, he
could be the real Santa Claus for all I know!”

Walter’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Was he pulling my leg?
Well, duh, about the guy really being Santa, he definitely
was.

“Curious,” I said slowly. “Yeah. That’s… sort of curious.”

“Told ya I’d think of something! Now come on, let me show
you the lounge.”

The lounge where the kids got their dinner was a big room
with a bar at one end and a mounted TV. Walter also showed me the dock out
back.

When the tour was over, I sat out in the parking lot in my
car. I was intrigued by the idea of a mystery Santa Claus. Could he be a
celebrity? A secret philanthropist? A homeless person? Someone with buried
secrets? The idea reminded me of the movie Miracle on 34th Street,
my favorite Christmas movie of all time and one of my guilty pleasures.

Okay, so the Elks’ Santa wouldn’t turn out to be the real Kris Kringle. All my journalistic wishing in the world
wouldn’t bring that story to my door. But I might be able to spin some of that
wistful feeling into the Elks story? Maybe?

Yeah. Yeah, definitely. There was something there, a story
that could get people engaged and talking. I could feel it.

Hell, I was engaged. That was a good
sign, right?

Also, investigative journalism was digging out the hidden
truth and reporting it. So if I could make enough out of this mystery-Santa
angle, I could use it for my class project too.

Por favor, Santa, all I want for Christmas
is a brilliant story. One that will knock their socks off. Sincerely, su
pequeño Gabriel.

Gable is just playing dress up for San Francisco's leather S&M fair, but Leather Head isn't playing. His friend Shawn warns him to be careful what he's advertising for since the community has been rocked by four brutal murders. Gable still thinks it's all in fun, but it isn't. Desire can be deadly.

Guest Reviewer - NeRdyWYRM

Dark and Clever

I enjoyed this twisted little short quite a bit. I thought the author found a very clever way of smooshing a lot of story into a small package. Maybe it’s been done before, maybe not, I dunno. But I liked the bits of the past interspersed in one ‘whole-book’ scene from the present. It made it feel like way more story than was actually there. This also highlighted one bone of contention for me, though, that being: there was enough meat on the bones of this plot for it to have been a full-length book. I wondered why the author didn’t go that route, but the short was good as is so … I’ll have to remain satisfied with the niblets.

Leather Head was a slightly over-the-top villain in short-story form. I think he could have been truly diabolical with more page time. In this case, his actions had to speak for him, thus, The Bone of Contention. We did get a little bit of his voice, but I wanted in his freaky-ass Leather Head. I know I’m being a little wishy-washy on this one because I keep whining (indirectly) about the length. Don’t get me wrong, this was an excellent short because it left me wanting more. The fact that it had potential to be an even better full-length book speaks volumes.

If you want a dark and dirty quickie, this is the one for you.

More reviews by NeRdyWYRM can be found on Goodreads here.
Images (when present) may be subject to copyright.

French male model Simeon Duchamp has a lot of explaining to do.
Two years after a breakdown Simeon is off drugs and booze and wants to stay that way.
On his road to reclaiming his life and modeling career, Sim first needs to apologize to the man he hurt the most -his ex-best friend and object of his unrequited affection Pieter Bayer. Pieter now has a long-term partner, artist Emily Raven, with whom he shares a baby son. Sim is amazed when Pieter accepts his apology, and invites him into his family.

Closeness to Pieter sees Simeon's longing for his friend is rekindled. But then, when Simeon meets an attractive older man, Bastian Roth at an Art Exhibition, he realizes that there is a soul more broken than his, and Simeon feels compelled to help. Simeon's connection with the troubled Bastian Roth turns his world upside down. He has to decide whether to allow himself to fall for the man who wants him or pine for the man he can never have.

***THIS BOOK CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE***

DNF 44%

I'm not sure what happened here, but I just didn't connect with either Simeon or Bastian. It may have been the writing style and the shifts in multiple points of view, including secondary characters that didn't allow me that connection to the main leads.

I also had some difficulty with content. I cannot like Bastian from what I read. I know he's going through something, but from the glimpse into his past, it seemed he always had boundary issues. This is probably the biggest reason I didn't connect with him for Simeon. And why I eventually had to admit defeat.

Simeon was pretty stereotypical with his personality, and that's not fun for me. I didn't feel like he had any layers, and the story didn't delve deep enough into his actual feelings and self reflection. He was very superficial, and I got impatient for something more from him. I made it almost halfway before I decided it wasn't going to happen the way I wanted it to.

This may work for others, and by all means, do not take my word for anything. This just wasn't for me, for multiple reasons, most of which was where my headspace is at this moment in time, and my very low tolerance for a lot of problematic content in romance.

It’s supposed to be the most wonderful time of year for Gabe and Josh Roman-Wyatt as they celebrate their first holidays as fathers, but someone’s war on St. Nick threatens to ruin their holly jolly Christmas.

The Norman Rockwell holiday they had envisioned implodes and shenanigans ensue in true Josh and Gabe style, but that only makes the couple more determined to rejoice in the love and joy they have found in one another. A Black Friday showdown, two foul-mouthed birds, one lumbersexual, ugly Christmas sweaters aplenty, four invading grandparents, and a sexy twist on an advent calendar lead up to oh, holy nights. Catch up with your favorite characters and meet some new faces in a tale that is sure to make you feel as warm as Josh’s creamy, hot-buttered rum concoction.

A Dye Hard Holiday is a funny story about two fathers trying to hold it all together as they juggle busy careers and family life while planning the perfect holiday season. Will they be rocking around the Christmas tree or will it be a blue Christmas? The book is approximately 50,000 words long and is not intended as a standalone book. This supplements the Curl Up and Dye Mysteries series, which should be read in order. This book contains sexually explicit material and is intended for adults 18 and over.

EXCERPT

“Stop your bitching and I’ll blow you.” Josh’s hushed words startled me because I didn’t hear him come up the steps behind me. He was quiet and sneaky like a ninja, but the kind that promised sexual favors instead of killing you. “We’re going to have a fucking Norman Rockwell holiday and you’re going to behave.”

“Or what?” I was picturing him tying me to our bed or cuffing me to a chair in his dance studio to teach me another lesson.

“That’s what you said last night when I kept edging you and wouldn’t let you come.” He sounded pleased with himself, as he damn well should, but I wasn’t about to feed into his ego.

“Did you follow me up here to bust my balls?” I asked.

“No, I followed you up here so that I could suck your balls.”

I nearly tripped going up the next step, which would’ve been murder on the instant hard-on he always gave me. “Are you teasing me?”

“Do I ever?”

Josh never teased or offered something he wasn’t willing to give. If he said he came up to suck my balls then he did. “But our parents—”

“Are cuddling their infant grandbabies they haven’t seen in a few months. Trust me, Captain Comes Hard, they’ll forget we exist until their stomachs start to growl at dinnertime.”

“Is that why you had that huge lunch ready to go when they arrived?” I asked. Josh’s considerate scheming never failed to amaze me. Okay, scheming makes it sound like he is a shady character, which he isn’t, but the man always has a good plan in place for every occasion. I benefited from his craftiness more often than not.

“You didn’t seem too upset about the open-faced roast beef sandwiches with mashed potatoes and gravy that I served,” Josh sassily replied right before he pinched my ass.

“I’m not upset; I’m continually amazed by your brilliance.”

I hastily dumped the luggage in our parents’ suites then grabbed Josh’s hand and tugged him to our room. He was right; our parents wouldn’t even notice that we were missing.

I am a wife and mother to three kids, three dogs, and a cat. When I’m not dreaming up stories, I like to lose myself in a good book, cook or bake. I'm a girly tomboy

who paints her fingernails while watching sports and yelling at the referees.

I will always choose the book over the movie. I believe in happily-ever-after. Love inspires everything that I do. Music keeps me sane.

The Mistress of Kink with a Heart a.k.a. Kim Dare is here today & she brought the cutest lil pup!

“Parcel came when you were out.”

Danny turned just in time to catch the box his flat-mate, James, tossed towards him. The senders label on the front of the box was discreet. There was no way anyone who wasn’t already familiar with the store’s initials could guess what the box contained. And James was far too vanilla to have ever heard of this kind of leather shop.

“Do you want to—?” James began.

“Sorry. Knackered. Having an early night.” Danny had barely got the words out before he was closing his bedroom door behind him.

He had the T-shirt, kilt and jock strap he’d worn to the club discarded in record time. All that he had left on then were his boots. He looked down at the long rows of shiny silver buckles. No patience for that. They’d have to stay on.

As desperate as he was to see his purchase, he found himself closing his eyes. Bringing it up to his face, he inhaled deeply. His cock immediately reacted to the scent of new leather.

Opening his eyes, Danny finally allowed himself to look. The hood was both simple and oh-so perfect. He ran trembling fingers over the puppy ears and across where the leather was shaped into a perfect little muzzle.

In seconds he had the straps undone. A shudder ran through his body as he refastened the buckle behind his head.

He turned toward the full length mirror on the back of his bedroom door, but kept his eyes on the carpet. He’d saved up for so long—carefully stock-piling both money and courage, until he could finally buy the hood.

He wasn’t sure if he could survive it being a disappointment.

Swallowing rapidly, Danny lowered himself clumsily to his knees and placed his hands on the floor in front of him. He summoned up just a little more bravery and looked up.

The sound that emerged from his throat sounded suspiciously like a whimper. Fitting, really.

Danny stared into his reflection. A leather-pup stared back at him in something like wonder.

There was no warning before his bedroom door swung open.

James.

James, who had been part of every leather-pup fantasy Danny had had for months, but who was as vanilla as they came in reality.

God, Danny needed to be able to say something, to make some sort of excuse. Halloween costume idea? Lost a bet with guys at the club? Something. Please. Anything.

Unable to make his voice box work, Danny scrambled to back away, still on his hands and knees.

“Hey. There’s no need to be frightened.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of shock in James’ voice. He crouched down as he spoke and put his hand on Danny’s shoulder to halt his retreat.

Moving ceased to be an option for Danny, but not because of James’ grip. It was his voice. James had never used that tone with him before—not outside of Danny’s fantasies.

“It’s okay, pup. I won’t hurt you.” James slid his hand up to the nape of Danny’s neck and stroked his hair. A moment later he placed his other hand on the small of Danny’s back. “Sit.”

Danny still couldn’t move.

James pressed a little more firmly. “Sit, pup.”

Somehow Danny managed to flex his hips and bring himself into a sit position.

“Oh, pup, you didn’t really think you had a kink that would shock me, did you?” Amusement tinged every word.

Danny’s mouth went dry. He peered up at James through the eye holes in the hood, not sure if he was allowed to speak, or what the hell he should say if he was allowed.

“Just because I don’t wear leather myself, that doesn’t mean I don’t like guys, or pups, that do.” He dipped his head, and whispered in Danny’s ear, as if sharing a secret. “And it doesn’t mean I’m not exactly the type of dom you need, either.”

Ten minutes ago, Danny would have bet his life James had no idea what the word dom meant, let alone what a leather-pup was. But now… Now…

Still unable to come up with any words that fitted the situation, Danny let instinct take over. He turned his head and licked James’s hand through the mouth opening in the hood.

“Good boy. That’s right. Good pup”

Bloody hell. Danny didn’t care if James had never worn a stich of leather in his life, James saying those words to him in that tone of voice, was hotter than any other man in full leather could be.

James smiled, his expression gentle but oh-so knowing, as he stroked Danny’s nape again. “Good pup.”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! That's the smell of Kim Dare in the morning. Ain't it sweet? Be sure to let her know what you thought of her pup! I mean, her fic in the comments. A little bird told me there *might* be a follow up so speak up!

About the Author

Kim is a thirty-three year old bisexual submissive from Wales (UK). First published in 2008, she has since released almost 100 BDSM erotic romance titles ranging from short stories to full length novels. Having worked with a host of fantastic e-publishers, she has just moved into self publishing.

While she has occasionally ventured towards other pairings, Kim's first love is still, and probably always will be, Male/Male stories. But, no matter what the pairing, from paranormal to contemporary, and from the sweet to the intense, everything she writes will always feature three things - Kink, Love and a Happy Ending.

Trivia Question: The series that features the ancient sea race, the ketoi. 5 ptsRandom winner will be chosen 11/22. I'll be traveling all will so I will try to have winners notified no later than 6 pm EST.

It's Black Friday and who better to close out this day than Devon McCormack! He's brought us a very... um... delicious story to help distract you from the hordes of shoppers fighting over the latest toy.

TO CHEAT WITH ANGER

by

Devon McCormack

I washed my hands in the bathroom sink before running my fingers through my long brown locks.

I didn't want to go back out into the club.

I didn't care for strip clubs, unlike my guy Jesse, who if it was up to him, would have been at one every weekend.

Taking a breath, I headed for the door and unlocked it. As I pulled on the handle, a force pushed on it.

It was the stripper, Rex, the guy who I'd given one-too-many Washingtons because he was extra-friendly when I tipped him.

In his neon-green thong, some bills stuffed into his thigh straps, he hurried inside and closed the door behind him, slyly locking it behind him, like this wasn't his first time pulling this move on a guy.

He was hot as fuck with short buzzed hair and a sleeve tattoo across his right arm. I hadn't been able to make out what it was, and now that I was busy looking between those steel blue eyes and his massive package being squished in that thong, I certainly didn't think I was going to figure it out in that moment.

He approached quickly, pushed up against me, and shoved me back against the brick wall beside the bathroom sink.

His lips were minty fresh. I enjoyed his hot breath rushing up against my face as he took my mouth. Heat radiated off his body, stacked with muscles, covered in a thick sweat from having just been on the stage, working his magic.

The way he wrapped his arm around me and pressed against the small of my back, pulling me up against him, I found myself lost in his spell.

We worked together, removing my blazer and unbuttoning my shirt before he pulled down my pants with my boxers.

Without hesitation, he squatted down and slid my dick into his mouth, going at it like the pro he clearly was.

It wasn't until that moment that I remembered that I had a fucking fiancé outside, waiting for me to come back.

I felt terrible for what I was doing. It was wrong, immoral, but it felt so fucking right when Rex was sliding his tongue up and down my shaft.

In that moment, as he deep throated my cock, despite the guilty feelings that raced through me, I found it only made it that much more exciting, that much more delicious.

I felt like I deserved it after what I'd caught Jesse doing behind my back.

If he could run around with a guy for six months, I could have a little fun in the bathroom with some random stripper, right?

I reached out, pressing my hand against the adjacent wall.

Rex pushed to his feet.

I was so worked up, so filled with need, desperately craving satisfaction.

He grabbed onto my shoulder and forced me around, pushing his face up against the wall before whispering in my ear, "Oh, you're being a very bad boy."

My face filled with heat as he forced my pants to my ankles.

I heard him spit behind me.

Jesus fucking Christ.

It was wrong.

Immoral.

Fucked up.

So why did I need it so fucking bad?

He massaged my hole with his wet fingers before lubricating his cock with some more saliva.

I turned to look at that fat erection of his, his thong pulled down, mid-thigh.

"Jesus fucking Christ, no lube?" I asked.

He snickered. "It's kinda my thing."

"Well, with a body like that, I guess you just get to have it however you want."

He slid his cock between my cheeks, and I could feel him pushing the head in.

He leaned close to me as he maneuvered his cock in my hole.

"God, you're tight," he muttered against my ear.

I took deep breaths, working to take him as he slid in, slowly, the sensation stinging within me.

I wonder what Jesse must think I'm up to?

Was he looking for me? Was he going to come in to get me?

I didn't care if he did find me.

I needed this experience...craved it in a horrible, disgusting way.

Rex and I worked together, me relaxing and him getting that big cock farther within me.

As he jammed it into my prostate, I groaned out loud.

He wrapped an arm around my throat, tugging gently while offering sloppy kisses against the side of my face.

It wasn't just that he was hot as hell or that there was this electric chemistry that lingered between us that made it so unbelievably delicious.

There was something about knowing that I shouldn't have been doing it.

That it was wrong.

And that it was a big FU to Jesse.

I was throwing four years down the toilet, and I didn't give a flying fuck...because I was consumed by my lust.

I enjoyed the experience, reveled in it.

"I need to pull out," Rex said. "I'm gonna shoot."

I reached around and grabbed his ass, tugging him close.

"No, don't," I insisted before hearing him grunt and knowing that he was releasing inside me.

His body jerked forcefully and then he settled, but just for a moment before he started up again, hitting my prostate. I jerked on my cock until I shot my own load, which collected on the wall in front of me.

Panting, we came down from our high together.

He pulled out and made quick with pulling his thong back up.

In my own hurry, I grabbed my blazer and pulled it on, not catching my mistake until I noticed my button-up still on the tile floor.

"Shit," I muttered as I pulled up my jeans.

Rex grabbed a couple of ones from one of his thigh straps and shoved them into the open fly of my pants. "That was lovely," he said, leaning close and offering a kiss.

He pulled away briefly, making direct eye contact. I was hypnotized by those steel blue eyes as he said, "Maybe we can continue this some other time."

He left the bathroom, leaving me gasping, disoriented, exhilarated...and feeling like a terrible human being.

I didn't care, though.

I just want to know how to reenact that experience once again.

I gazed down at the ones he'd shoved into the fly of my jeans and noticed a scrap of paper with what looked like a phone number on it.

Was this just the beginning?

Whew! Is it hot in here? *wipes brow* Someone must have turned on the heater. Be sure to let Devon know what you thought of his story in the comments below!

About the Author:

Devon McCormack writes adult and young adult novels. He lives in Atlanta, GA. Devon McCormack spends most of his time hiding in his lair, adventuring in paranormal worlds with his island of misfit characters. A good ole Southern boy, McCormack grew up in the Georgian suburbs with his two younger brothers and an older sister. At a very young age, he spun tales the old fashioned way, lying to anyone and everyone he encountered. He claimed he was an orphan. He claimed to be a king from another planet. He claimed to have supernatural powers. He has since harnessed this penchant for tall tales by crafting whole worlds where he can live out whatever fantasy he chooses. A gay man himself, McCormack focuses on gay male characters, adding to the immense body of literature that chooses to represent and advocate gay men's presence in media. His body of work ranges from erotica to young adult, so readers should check the synopses of his books before purchasing so that they know what they're getting into.

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